


Denial

by uwukechi



Category: Persona 3
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Childhood Trauma, Death, Flashback, Gen, Minor Character Death, Nightmares, One Shot, femc goes by hamuko, i cant remember if i called her by name in this or not, kind of, reliving traumatic experiences, this was pretty short and self indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:47:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24119011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uwukechi/pseuds/uwukechi
Summary: In which Hamuko suffers from the pain of her past.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Denial

_In my arms, they are there. Time has become warped, distorted into something barely recognizable to the warm, reddish-brown eyes that flicker over the scenery._

The funny thing about dreams, and nightmares, is that, no matter how grossly unrealistic they may be, the imaginer takes it for reality. 

Oh, how she wished she could escape the nightmares. She longed to pry herself free from the ugly grasp of gnarled, blackened fingers that closed around her throat. But how could she, when those very fingers seeped into her skin, molding into her flesh. How could she escape herself?

_Father. He’s in my arms, his body is heavy. Blood seeps from his temple, from a gash that has broken through his skull. My free hand flies to the wound, desperate to stop the bleeding. I press on it, but the red liquid is thick, seeping past my fingers which were meant to serve as a dam for the flood that seems to flow endlessly. It’s hot, too hot, escaping from the body that was once my father. I look into his eyes, as if to reassure myself that he is still there. My father is still in there._

She was a cadaver of corruption, a tangled mess of rot. The bright, bubbly girl was breaking, her genuine smile cracking away. Her heart pounds against her chest.

_ I’ve never looked into the eyes of a corpse. Not once in my life, which, admittedly, has not been long. Though, when I looked into the once warm eyes of my father, the eyes which bore such a strong resemblance to my own, I knew. I never thought it possible to see life, as an essence. And yet, when my eyes met his, my blood ran cold. Gone was the liveliness that once sparkled in his pretty orbs, that sparked a playfulness within me. That prompted me to tug upon his sleeve, to crawl on his back when he was crouched down, low enough for my small height, cheering as he lifted me into the air.  _

_ My lips crack open, a scream begs to break from my throat, but the noise that comes out instead is a desperate sob. “Please don’t leave, please don’t go,” I sputter, clenching at his shirt, which has been stained with his blood. My hands, they are sticky. They are covered with blood, his blood. It is everywhere. I never knew a person could bleed so much.  _

_ My hand moves to cup his cheek, which is cooling rapidly, for his heart is no longer beating to spread warmth through his body. Cold, he is growing oh, so cold.  _

_ Surely, he’ll become sick, at this rate. _

She is delirious, in denial, and desperate for an escape from the torment.  


_ “Dad, dad, you’ll… you’ll get sick!” I sob, letting his body rest on the concrete floor as I tear my jacket from my body. It is far too small for him, but I don’t care. I have to warm him up, have to prevent him from falling ill.  _

_ The cool air crashes into my skin, and I shiver violently. It is cold, so cold, but I have to help dad. I press the jacket against him. _

_ “Hold onto this, dad,” I tell him. He doesn’t respond. The tears burn running down my cheeks. I grab his hands, press them to my chest. His fingers are cold, so very cold. Why won’t he respond? _

_ “Dad, we have to go to a hospital, you’re hurt,” I pull at his wrists. He has to get up. He has to get up. “C’mon, dad… Mom is gonna be worried.” _

_ Mom. Where was mom? My heart falters, fingers still clenched around the cold ones of my father. I frantically scan the wreck that is my surroundings. Until now, the roaring of the fire had fallen on my deaf ears. _

_ She’s there, several feet away, lying in the rubble. I have to get to her. _

_ I tug on my father’s arms, urging him to get up, to come along. To help me, to help mom. He is unresponsive, and a desperate scream breaks from my lips. I choke, and sob, finally collapsing upon his motionless body. My fists clench in the bloodied fabric of his shirt, and I sob against him. I have to save him. _

_ I have to help them, but I can’t.  _

_ At some point, I must have been screaming, for my mother, for my father, for someone to help, for my throat felt raw and overused. My limbs were sapped of energy, and my mind was foggy. I was cold, so cold. The night was harsh, the wind unforgiving.  _

_ Perhaps, I should simply lie here, beside my parents. Perhaps I would wake up from this nightmare. It would all go away, if I simply close my eyes and let myself slip away.  _

_ My hand finds my father’s once more, and I squeeze it gently. _   
  



End file.
